


They'll come and ask about our love

by Tanachvil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, M/M, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:38:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanachvil/pseuds/Tanachvil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the curse spreads from his hand, Ablus Dubmledore can't help but think about his regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They'll come and ask about our love

**Author's Note:**

> "They'll come and ask about our love" is a wonderful song by the Italian singer Fabrizio De André, and its original title is "Verranno a chiederti del nostro amore".  
> [Listen to it here.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IA7fpI6n4yo)  
> I wrote this fic a while ago, in Italian, and when I was looking for a title, this song was all I could think of. The verses at the beginning are from the lyrics of the song. I tried my best to translate them, but I'm afraid I did a poor job.  
> The paragraph in the end, of course, is from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

  
  
_“ When way ahead of your surprise_  
 _they'll come and ask about our love_  
 _to those so used to be right and obeyed_  
 _a love so long lasting  
_ _don't give away hastily._

_[...]_

_I never managed to change you  
You never were able to change me, you know."_

  


 

 

So many years.  
So many mistakes.

Weren't you always saying that mistakes are nothing but stones? Stones we throw at our back, stones that go build a path, one that others will walk more safely, thanks to us? Stones that we let fall behind us, to get rid of their burden, of guilt, of pain.

So many regrets.  
I never gave myself any break, any mercy. If I had, if I had let even one little inch of that door open, you would have come back to torment me. You. The idea of you confined, held prisoner. Walls of spells and stones to keep you caged, no light to shine on your eyes.

Was this the only way, my friend?  
Was this the only fate?  
You were not meant to wither in a cage, you were not born for stone and iron, curses and oaths.  
War and vengeance, rage and cruelty, were more like you.

You were the wild one, remember? I was the silent one.

 

Remember the river? I'm certain you do.  
It's the last memory of us I have, the only one I let myself remember and relive, from time to time.  
While you tell me what you are planning, what's on your mind, while you find solution to the problems I presented, while you charm me with your dreams, so similar to mine, so promising, the water flows in the river and you follow it with your eyes. You draw light patterns on the flow with your wand, and only when you think I can't see you, you turn to look at me, sitting on the grass, keeping my distance from the water and the muddy river shore.

I always was the one afraid of getting dirty, wasn't I?

In the end, you were right, of course.  
I was scared.

  
I overcame my fear, you know? I drenched my hands in so many crimes, so many schemes that now I... Well, what's happening to me now is almost poetically fair.  
I manipulated people, I convinced them that things had to be done in my way. And you know what I almost said, last time? You know which phrase almost left my lips? _For the greater good._

No, don't misunderstand me, I'm not looking for absolution.  
I'm not offering that either.  
Given the chance, I'd do exactly what I've done, all over again, without leaving you any way out.  
Because you gave me no other choice, because there never was any other choice.  
And if I told you that I wish it hadn't hurt so much, it would be a lie. A lie so big, so colossal, that I would be crushed by its weight.

No.

Pain was necessary.  
It was fundamental for me to suffer, while your wand, this wand, landed in my hands. It was fundamental that I was in agony, seeing you dragged away unconscious, while I kept my head up to bath in praise and in the first wave of gratitude and useless, pompous celebration.

I had defeated you, stopped you, broken you.  
I couldn't bare to feel good for something like that, even knowing it was the right thing to do, the noble thing, the only possible solution.

  
Someone believed you were crazy.  
I knew you were not. You are not, not even now, blind and confined, old and furious.

We got old, my friend, somehow.  
And now I'm dying.

 

I drenched my hand in too many plots, to much blood, I manipulated to many noble innocents to make amends for my past, to stop a greater evil from rising and triumph, to... Oh, can you see? I still do that. Excuses and defences, like I always did. As if the _greater good_ , whatever it has become through the years, could justify unthinkable sacrifices.

  
I sacrificaed the lives of wizards and witches so strong and so proud that your heart would have stopped, looking at them. I let the mind of others, so brave and so lost, be burnt like paper.  
At my orders, a man fragile and hard at the same time condemned himself to a life of lies and pain. For me. For the greater good. And a child lived only so that he could die at the right moment, according to my plans, to follow my wretched plots and deceptions.  
And now that the time has come, I leave them alone.  
I'm dying, and there is nothing anybody can do about it.  
Perhaps we could buy some time, maybe there is someone who will look at death with so much disdain and fury, that he'll gain me some day more, a month, an hour.  
But we know it, me and you, don't we? We know death can't be cheated for long.  
  


How wrong we were, back then, how naive we were.  
Here, with the curse crawling up from my fingers, I hold two of the Hallows in my hands, and yet death is waiting for me. Patient, without any urgency. Death knows I'm not going anywhere, this time.  
And it's all right, my friend, honestly, in the end, it's quite all right. Time has passed and I'm not afraid anymore. I'm no longer the frightened boy, the frenzied boy willing to give his life to defeat Death.  
It is time.  
  


So many years.  
So many mistakes.  
So many regrets.  
I never gave myself any break, any mercy. If I had, if I had let even one little inch of that door open, you would have come back to torment me.

I think there is no need to hide anymore, I think I have the right to mourn you, don't you think? And how ironic it is, that I'm the one about to die, while you, in your cage, will live.  
But irony doesn't entertain me as it used to. I just feel the bitterness for all those years spent concealing what I never left myself weep for.

Forgive me.

Forgive me.

Forgive me, my love. Forgive me because I wasn't strong enough, because I never understood and never had the courage to stop you.  
Forgive me for not being strong enough to change your mind, to make you understand, to make you stay.  
Forgive me because I was a fool, because I refused to see and because I let you guide me, completely, because your hand in mine was all the lead I needed, because I was blind and so stupidly happy.

Forgive me because I wasn't strong enough to keep you from crumpling down.  
Forgive me for believing you, for believing in you, for the dreams I dreamt and the things I never understood.

  
There are others, many others I have to ask forgiveness to, before all is done.  
But tonight, while the curse crawls up my skin, I ask you, and I say goodbye.

When they'll come and tell you I'm dead, will you cry? My stupid pride would like that, you know? My horrible, undefeated pride would like that very much, but I really don't think you should. Don't cry for me, really don't.  
Because I really do believe that there is no point in crying for the dead, Gellert, but only and above all for those who live without love.

And there are few things I'm certain of, so few I never doubted even for one moment, even when I was fighting you, with fury in your eyes and horror in mine, few things are so clear and strong as my only real certainty: my love for you.  
And there is nothing I would want more, now, than being with you again, on that riverside.  
In my mind, in the idle mind of a poor old dying man, we never left that river.  
I sit beside you, on the muddy bank, I take your hand.  
And nothing matters anymore.  
  


 

 

_'Why,' said Snape, without preamble, 'why did you put on that ring? It carries a curse, surely you realized that. Why even touch it?'_  
 _Marvolo Gaunt's ring lay on the desk before Dumbledore. It was cracked; the sword of Griffyndor lay beside it._  
 _Dumbledore grimaced._  
 _'I... was a fool. Sorely tempted...'_  
 _'Tempted by what?'_

_Dumbledore did not answer._

 

 

 


End file.
